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I had to write this, I'm sorry, but I did.
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The cello is Paige's favorite thing about school.

She has a mental list (she's written it down before, but it's lost in the confines of the messy piles of stuff that make up her hazardous bedroom floor) of everything that's not to her liking in (and about) her high school, concerning the classes she attends and the social groups that wreak havoc on those who want peace and quiet, and the teachers who insist on working everyone to the bone, so early in the beginning of the year, right up until the last week that comes before the last few days of school, where there was no homework allowed. Only free time and time to do very last-second make-up assignments (which is something she's never have to do, in junior high or now, because, though she dislikes or merely tolerates the subjects she's learning about in school, she's a very good student, with better grades than most of her class mates).

She thinks that gym class is what she hates the most, though. She hates it more than she hates math, science, economics—she hates it more than any other class she's been forced to take (except for orchestra, because that's her favorite class of the day because she's reunited with her cello—and after school is her favorite part of the day because all she gets to do is play and that has to be the greatest thing ever).

There are many reasons why, during the first period of the day (first thing in the morning!), she thinks that gym class is the worst thing to happen to her in high school since the idiots who play basketball in the halls and in the parking lot while she's walking home (and doing her best not to get hit in the head, because they'd like to think it's funny, but she just ends up with a bump on the top of her head that goes down after a couple hours)—and the idiots who play lacrosse and boss around other people in other clubs (she wonders sometimes if there will ever be nice sport-players in Beacon Hills, but she doesn't hope for that—because that seems very unlikely)—and basically, everyone (mostly the boys; sometimes a few of the girls) who's got some part in participating in something even remotely active turns into a jerk in gym class, because they can and the rest of the student body—people like her, and the people who like to read and want to study in order to go to college to get a good job, and everyone who's really not into sports is forced to endure the competitiveness of their peers.

It's the worst thing in the world, in her opinion, despite how dramatic that sounds, and usually, if she comes in late, she can get past getting picked for a team, but for a while now, she's been coming in early to be able to practice her cello at school since lugging it between the music room and her house isn't really the most appealing option—so getting picked for whatever game they're doing for the week is becoming unavoidable. Being picked for teams in one of the reasons she hates gym—because the team captains are always the same: Kate Argent, a girl she's not too familiar with, but she doesn't like her anyway, though she never says or does anything to make this known to the confident (cocky) girl, is always the team captain the teacher picks first, because Coach Meyers thinks that she's a genius when it comes to picking people for teams. She's not. In fact, if she paid more attention to what was going on, she would realize that someone else desperately needed to be captain.

Kate's not really a reason for Paige's evident, major dislike for the class—but she does pick people that the cellist doesn't like. They're either always girls from her social circle or guys who can do all the playing-the-game for said girls while they stand around and chat while the social outcasts are forced into an awkward game of whatever it is that they're all supposed to be playing.

There are those kids, and then Paige finds that she—her own self—is an issue when it comes to playing sports. She's tall, and she'd sort of thin, but she's not really that graceful, or agile, or useful, like the softball players and the cheerleaders and the track runners and the volleyball-team members. She's sort of awkward, even though she can (sort of) dance (some very basic ballet, but no one can know about that), and she thinks that she's lanky.

So there's that—and then there's the teacher. Coach Meyers is the assistant coach to Coach Smith, who coaches lacrosse. Meyers doesn't really do anything after giving the team captain the go. And she can't forget the activates that they're supposed to participate in—whether it be dodge-ball, baseball, basketball, volleyball, badminton (she's actually sort of good at that), or even the version of hockey that they play on the gym's floor. It might be bearable, though, if she actually had any friends—but she doesn't, and therefore, gym class is just another thing she's alone in, but she tries not to dwell on that much, because there's really no use in doing so.

It might not be the biggest reason, but it's probably the final one that makes her sort of grumpy until the end of second period (English) rolls around.

The final reason is the other team captain.

Derek Hale.

Paige doesn't really like Derek. In fact, a few times she's nearly thrown a basketball (on accident!) in his face because he knocked her down during a game during their freshman year. The boy can be sort of a jerk, but not as nearly as much as his friends, and he's arrogant—and he teases her a lot. He likes to play keep-away, and it annoys her. They've been doing this since they were little, too—so she's not going to cry and storm off to the teacher if he steals the baseball bat from her when it's her turn to hit it (she always, misses, and she knows that every time he yanks it right out of her arms, even when he's not on her team, he'll bat for her, just to prove to her that he can do it better than she can, and she hates that) or when he trips her when she's running with the football in their rather "tame" version of the game on the field outside in the rain.

But over the years, as everyone has grown, she's noticed that he's been picking on her whenever she's on a different team more often than not. Sometimes, when they're doing laps around the track on particularly cold (early) mornings, he'll jog alongside her, while she's huffing and puffing—and he just smirks and goes faster and ahead of her to join his friends and Kate Argent and her group of friends. Other times, when they're trying to catch or throw something, he'll yell "head's up!" and throw something at her, just for the sake of throwing something at Paige, and she'll miss it by a long shot because it's become instinct to duck when something's coming her way.

Derek, as team captain, doesn't choose all the social outcasts, unless Kate's picked out most of the sports-players before he has, but when he chooses her, he occasionally sends her a mocking look as he shows off in front of the entire class with some stunt of his.

Honestly, Paige wonders if he has a brain at all.

And sometimes, she wonders if he has superpowers, too, because he can run really fast, and he can jump kind of high, and he never misses a shot in basketball, and he always hits the baseball when the pitcher hurls it at him, and that's something even Kate Argent can't do 24/7—but he pulls it off flawlessly and the fact that he's better at most social things than she is really does bother her.

But Derek's never hit her (hard) or been cruel to her—he's just annoying, immature, and a bit stupid (despite what his average-to-good-to-"really great" grades tell the world) when it comes to being friendly to another human being.

But then again, Paige doesn't really expect this—high school, classes, dealing with Derek (he's his own reason, she's realized, but November of their junior year, for her hating gym class and disliking high school's need to force students to interact with other students in more uncomfortable and awkward ways than one)—to be quite easy.

Things begin to change, though, in January of that year. It's weird, how fast things seemed to change.

Paige is standing in the gym, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest tightly, clutching a book there that she's supposed to bring to English today because they're going to start a project on it (she's not too thrilled about that). In gym today, they had played baseball (outside) and her gym jersey and shorts were now in her backpack, caked with mud because when she'd actually hit the ball and had started running for it, being cheered on (surprisingly) by her team (and Kate, because she had been one of the last ones to get picked, and it seemed like it was the Argent's turn to have the cellist on her team instead of on the Hale's) as she'd managed to dart past first and second base. On her way to third, Derek had (unsurprisingly) stuck out his foot (because he'd had no chance of getting her out with ball because it was currently somewhere out in the field, being retrieved by one of Kate's closest friends) and had (with a grin) tripped her.

She'd slid in the muddy ground, and gotten up shakily, hearing Derek's team roar with laughter and the (for once) offended shouts coming from her own team.

Now she's cleaned up, and she's still very infuriated by his actions, because they were seventeen now, and he should know better than to trip her while she's actually doing something right—

"Nice move you made out there."

Paige's head snaps up at the sound of the mocking, smooth voice that could only belong to one infuriating person and she's suddenly face to face with Derek (she hadn't even heard him come up to her, which kind of freaks her out, but she hopes he can't see that he has, though, he's looking smug, which tells she he knows). And she doesn't really know why that is, for a moment, because he's always on the other side of the gym with Kate (she thinks that Kate might like him, but she doesn't know that for sure, because Kate always seemed a bit more… more Kate around him, whenever he's around, and it's weird, and she really doesn't care for that kind of thing, where girls act out in front of stupid boys) and her friends and his own friends, and her side of the gym is closest to the doors that will get her to English faster than any other doors will.

She knows a few people from the other side of the gym are staring, laughing behind their hands, but all she does is glare at Derek.

"You didn't have to trip me."

The bell rings, and she steps away from the wall, giving him a look that tells him to leave her alone, but all he does is smirk in that irritating way of his that seems to successfully attract female attention, and she doesn't understand what that is because he's so infuriating.

Before she's out the gym doors, he calls behind her, "but face it: you wouldn't have made it anyways!"

A few weeks later, they're outside again, but this time, they're just walking laps around the track (thankfully), and Paige is by herself (as usual). Her eyes somehow found Derek way up ahead of her. He's laughing at something Kate's said and she feels something in her chest tighten and she immediately dismisses it as irritation for the boy, and she shifts her eyes away from him in case he looks over and catches her staring (because lately, she has been, and she doesn't know why—and he's only caught her once and because of that, for two days straight, all he'd done was smirk at her without saying a word when they saw each other).

It's a warm morning, and she's not surprised, because it's California—and sometimes, she wishes that it wasn't California she was in, but then again, high school stayed how it was all over the states, so there wasn't even a point to wishing that she was somewhere else instead of here.

Derek, lately, has been dropping by her locker, more often than he used to, and it's weird. As she walks on, she thinks about what he did yesterday. He'd stayed after school, with his friends, to play some sort of game in the parking lot, while she was inside playing her cello (it was soothing, after a day of having to deal with him). When she got to her locker to put her music folder away, he'd popped out of nowhere and had made her squeak (squeak!) and this morning, he had popped out behind Kate Argent as she had been passing by with her friends, before she had headed (rather reluctantly) to gym, and she had managed to clap a hand over her mouth before anyone could hear her surprise at seeing him scaring her.

She decides not to think about it—and dismisses it as Derek simply being Derek, and walks on.

In February, she learns that she is moving away with her mother—to Alaska, far from Beacon Hills. She's not saddened by the news; she'll be leaving in the summer, and she doesn't really have anyone to call friend here so she can miss them. The only way she can think of this optimistically (because, no matter how much she detests Beacon Hill's high school, she doesn't want to spend her senior year at a new school as the new girl) and all she can think about is how wonderful it will be to not have Derek popping out at her during her last year of high school.

A few weeks later after her mother tells her that Alaska will be their new home once summer comes (nobody knows, and she doesn't intend to tell anyone, because no one would miss her—she doesn't have any friends, after all) Derek does something really out of character.

He's been smirking and staring and waggling his eyebrows a lot at her, mainly to get a rise out of her lately—and it's been working—but since that day in January, she sees a lot more of him than (she's sure) than Kate Argent does, and Kate Argent likes to be around the guys she likes so no one steals them away.

As far as Paige concerned, though, Kate can have Derek.

Sometimes when she drops a book in the hall he swipes it up and races to class before she can even sputter an insult after his laughing figure disappears around the corner—and when she gets there, it's on her desk, and he'll be sitting on her desk, right next to it, and he'll be giving her this really out of character smile that's a bit too sincere for her to deal with.

So she snatches it away and she scowls at him while plopping herself in her seat, and he'll smirk, laugh, and get off her desk (after a moment of nudging her with his sneaker, which is really annoying, because he gets fleck of dried dirt on the knees of her pants more often than not) to join his friends.

She thinks little of this, until March strikes, and then she's left wondering about him—about that infuriating, ever-smirking Derek Hale.

In March, schedules are switched around abruptly (for no apparent reason) while second-semester classes are kept the same, and Paige is shocked to find out that she has most of her classes with Derek. First, second, fourth, fifth, and seventh all have his smirking face, his dirty sneakers, and the basketball that he always keeps between his splayed fingers.

She's beginning to stare when he's not looking again. Lately, she's been really good at not doing that, because he hasn't caught her since that one time and if he catches her again she knows she will never hear the end of it. But when she's positive that he's not going to look her way, she sneaks in her glances, but she still doesn't know why.

It's in the middle of math one Wednesday afternoon, and they've been assigned to work in partners. Of course, the teacher picks for them, and for some reason, Paige is stuck with Derek—much to his delight, and much to her dislike.

When he falls easily (gracefully—though she tries not to notice as she turns to the equations in her text book) into the seat beside her that's always been empty for as long as she can remember, she stiffens, because at that moment he'd sent the plastic chair scooting a bit too close, and she doesn't like it at all, and her head snaps up so she can glare at him—and ask him to move and give her some elbow space.

But he's looking at her kind of funny, and when her eyes meet his the funny look is suddenly traded in for his usual, mocking smirk as he asks her if she do his work for him (he can do it; he's just arrogant enough to assume she might help him do it), but her stomach does a little flip as she turns her eyes back to her notebook, grumbling something about his inability to do what he's supposed to do (which he laughs at) because that funny look is a look she's never seen anyone give anyone else—let alone her, because she's just Paige—the lonely, dark-haired, awkward, smart cellist who hates Derek Hale and cites him as a reason to hate gym class (but lately, he's been nicer to her—she's noticed it; day by day, he cuts back on the snide remarks, and she doesn't have a clue as to why he would even bother being nice to her.

The funny look he just gave her is still doing things to her insides (and her heart, because it feels like there's a humming bird trapped in her ribcage right now, and she thanks whatever powers above that he cannot hear what he's doing to her) as she starts to explain (with an aggravated tone, to which he slings an arm over the back of her chair in reply to said tone) how to do the equations (because their teacher is looking at them suspiciously; not because he asked for her to do it for him and she's just showing him how so he'll stop leaning so close and making her heart go into overdrive) as class goes on.

It makes her briefly remember that he's not going to be doing that to her next year, because she'll be all the way in Alaska, and he'll probably still be here—and she does her best to ignore the familiar tightness in her chest that she's been growing accustomed to since January, but, she notes, it still feels like someone is making it hard for her to breathe.

In April, she finds out why Derek's been acting so funny since January. In all honesty, she admits that she would never had seen in coming in a million years and Derek, as the arrogant, immature boy that he is, would never admit it either—and when she says that she never saw it coming, she means it.

It's cloudy outside, and she likes the sky like that—dark with patches of light grey, with no blue in sight. Sometimes she gets sick of the blue California sky, and when it's like this, she feels better about everything that's been going on (aside from her issues with Derek, her mother might be moving her out sooner than mid-July, like they'd originally planned, and she doesn't really know how she feels about that) while she plays her cello as most of the other students leave the school building (most of whom who are staying behind on this Friday afternoon aren't here for detention, for once).

The cello is still her favorite thing about—well, about everything, because it's solid, and it doesn't change, and it's all hers, and only she can play it the way she's playing it now, with her eyes closed and a soft smile on her lips that Beacon Hill's high school might not ever see again.

When she's done, she breathes out through her nose, and her smile grows a bit wider, a bit softer, and suddenly, there's clapping, and her eyes fly open to see Derek sitting in a chair with his backpack at his feet. He has that funny look on his face, and his eyes are bright, and the smirk he's wearing doesn't seem like it's mocking her, as usual.

It's actually a nice sight.

But she frowns, because she never heard him come in, and she's not sure how she feels about him listening in on her private practice session with the cello and her inner thoughts. She played for ten minutes straight—and since she never heard the door open or a chair move, she's guessing he's been there since the near-start of the piece she chose to make up in her mind and play on the spot.

She secretly wonders, though, if he's making fun of her.

And he seems to know this, because he drops his hands in his lap and his smirk turns into something that's like an arrogant smile, if there is such a thing—well, there has to be, because Paige is seeing it, and her heart is doing that humming-bird thing again, and her stomach has apparently joined the Olympics because the smile he's giving her is the first honest one she's ever seen on his face, and she can't help but lose control of her lips, feeling them quirk upwards for a second before they thin out into straight line.

"That was awesome," Derek tells her.

Paige narrows her eyes. She can't believe that he would like her music. Kate says all the instrumental stuff that the orchestra and band plays is boring, and she would think that Derek would share the same opinion (but maybe not, since he sees more of her than he does of Kate, and that secretly makes her smile on the inside).

"I mean it," he says. He's no longer smiling. He's leaning forward in his chair. His expression is earnest, and her stomach does another set of flips as her heart beats impossibly faster. He's grinning now. He's never grinned at her before. He's grinned at Kate and her friends and his friends and at teachers when he makes fun of them when they're not really looking—but he's never grinned at Paige before, like he means every word that comes out of his mouth.

"Can you play some more?"

Paige's eyebrows shoot up. "Don't you have basketball or something?" He likes to play with his friends in the hallway when she's practicing; he knows it annoys her more than most of the things that he does.

Derek shakes his head.

"Naw, I got all day to listen to you."

When she says nothing, his smirk is back in place, and she's pleased—and surprised—to see it's still not mocking her in any way whatsoever (that she can't tell).

"I promise I won't say a word if you keep playing."

"For you?"

Her voice is soft, and it holds more meaning than one. She knows he can tell, and to her surprise, he takes the meaning(s) seriously.

Derek leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he slouches easily, making himself comfortable as Paige turns back to the empty music stand in front of her.

"Yeah," he tells her, and she doesn't have to look up at him as she readies herself to play another song (for him) to know that the smirk is now gone, and he is now smiling. "For me."

So she does, and all the while, his eyes never leave her.

It's hard to believe that he actually likes listening to her—and the fact that he does says a lot.

A lot that Paige was never expecting, and as she plays, her chest tightens, and it's hard to breathe, but she plays.

She suddenly doesn't want to go Alaska anymore.

It's early May, and Paige's mother has revealed to her that they're leaving in a week. She wants to object, to scream, to cry, but she doesn't say anything, because her mother isn't expecting her to suddenly have a reason to want to stay in Beacon Hills.

Paige just goes to the practice room and plays her cello on the day that her mother gives her the news that they're leaving early. Derek is sick that day (apparently, he'd had Kate tell her that—so he wouldn't be around to annoy her till tomorrow, apparently, though she knew he just likes to see her and actually talk to her now and listen to her perform with her cello and pull on her hair when she's trying to concentrate in class while trying to ignore his smiles because Derek Hale likes her) and when she sits in that room, alone, with the doors shut, she lets tears fall down her cheeks and onto her clothes as she plays and plays and plays, because she likes Derek, too, but it's too late to do anything about Alaska and she really doesn't want to leave now—all because of Derek.

If her mother knew, she'd probably scoff and tell her "you should have told me that sooner" and maybe—just maybe—her mother might have found a way to stay, just until Paige graduated from high school in Beacon Hills, but that's not the case now, and it's getting hard to bleed as her noose becomes runny and her eyes just keep on leaking because it just hurts so much.

On her last day of school, she only goes to collect her things, and give back her text books (her teachers are perplexed about her sudden departure because no one really expected her to go anywhere—maybe it was because she hadn't told anyone, not even Derek, who had given her several opportunities, she had taken none of them since they'd started dating) and only to say goodbye.

It's lunch time right now, and she's done with dealing with her teachers. Her backpack is slung over her shoulder, and her cello case is in her hand. She's going to have to lug it out of the school herself, into her mom's car—which is waiting outside patiently for her—and as she's going through the halls, doing her best not to think of Derek because that would just make everything so much worse and she'd promised herself that he wouldn't see her go, and that if he did, that he wouldn't see her cry about it, because he's one of the reasons she hates her gym class, but she doesn't hate him.

Not really.

Not anymore.

Not since her heart decided to become a humming bird whenever he came around—or when he's around.

She's almost out the front doors when she hears what she's been dreading all day long to hear.

"Paige!"

She stops where she is, because if she doesn't, Derek, will just catch up with her anyways, and so when she turns around and sees the look on his face, her lower lip trembles.

Derek just stares at her for a moment. Shock is written all over his face, but he recovers quickly, and he clears his throat. When he speaks, his voice is thick, and it cracks, but his expression is growing hard, and she knows that he's hurt because she never told him that she's never going to get to see him, or kiss him, or hug him again.

"You're leaving."

The statement makes her eyes prick with tears, and she knows that if she dares to speak, she will be crying before she can even get out a coherent sentence. She'd sobbed herself to sleep the night before; she can't see her cry now, not when she's done so well at hiding this inevitable farewell from him since she found out.

So Paige just nods, and Derek just shakes his head.

"You didn't tell me..." he swallows again. It looks like he's having a hard time speaking, too. Knowing this, she feels overwhelmed with guilt, and it's getting hard to breathe again, but she doesn't speak.

Paige just nods again.

If she speaks, she cries.

He can't see her cry.

It would defeat the point of her trying not to be seen by him today.

Because Paige has always hated goodbyes—a few months ago, she hadn't expected to miss anything about this place, but now—now she's going to have something to miss, because she cares about him, and he actually cares about her, despite him being the stupid, arrogant, ever-smirking boy he is—and it all hurts, every little bit of this whole ordeal hurts, and she wonders if he can hear the sound of her heart breaking down the middle—if he can hear the cracks and fissures forming, if he can hear it finally break in half.

She hopes he can't. She really does.

Because she can see that the heartbreak on his face and it's probably evident on hers, too.

Derek doesn't say anything for a long while. He just glares at her, and she feels her lower lip begin to tremble again, so she bites it, so he doesn't know that she's going to burst into tears.

Without warning, his glare breaks into something completely honest and open and hurt—a look fit for a young face, not like his, because it's riddled with the pain that's settling in her bones—and his arms are pulling her into his chest, and she's smothering herself in the fabric of his t-shirt as she allows her cello case to fall to the floor as his arms come around her, trapping her in a cage that was simply made of Derek.

She's sobbing now, and she knows he's trying not to cry—he's doing a better job than she is, and she's clinging to his shirt like he's keeping her from drowning (he is) in her own tears, and he just stands there and holds her, allowing her to cry and cry and cry till the honking of her mother's car's horn reaches her ears.

Shakily, Paige leans away from Derek, and looks up into his face. She's doing everything she can to memorize every feature, every fleck of color in his eyes—the color of his hair, the smell of him, the feel of his skin and clothes as he holds her—she memorizes him and he embroiders her in his memories as well, and it's like she's suddenly a ghost and not controlling her own body, because the cello case is back in her hand and she's kissed him on the lips and she's now heading out the door, choking out a goodbye as she turns and sprints to her mother's sedan.

Paige doesn't look back.

But Derek is still staring after her, long after she's gone.

He can't believe it.

Just like that, she was gone.

Gone, forever.